I grew up in a house surrounded by others with similar shapes and facades, traipsed along on a narrow street lined by trees and bushes where the sun would rise over my backyard and set quietly behind the back of our neighbor's house. My name is John Jardin. John Thomas Jardin. I am 50% Irish on my Mother's side and 50% Portuguese on my Father's. And I grew up in a neighborhood surrounded by outdoor shopping malls, chain restaurants, luxury cars, and Christian churches. A safe haven carved through the once vast cow pastures in the North West corner of metro-Atlanta, known as...Marietta. When I was younger, my friends and I used to say, "Everyone who is everyone once lived in West Cobb. No matter where we all end up later in life, we will always have the sweet memories of the easy going and formulated life in Marietta." My mom was the queen of Marietta. She was the only women I know who could discipline three wildly outspoken and independent children while maintaining a conversation with her best girlfriends over the phone simultaneously. Life was simple. People were nice enough. Every weekend my friends and I would ride the elevator up to the top floor of the parking deck at the Marietta Square and watch the sunset behind the steeples lining Church St. and Kennesaw Mountain silhouetted in the distance and I'd think, "Wow!"
But now that I'm older, I know that those churches fostered close-minded outlooks in their patrons and the mountain would soon become the only piece of untouched land in a once beautifully wild landscape. And today, it's not romantic to watch the sunsets from the top of the parking deck. It's more attractive to spend the night inside, participating in questionable activities. And hanging out on top of parking decks watching the sunset is like saying, "Yeah I'm lame. I still like to enjoy the beauty and wonder of the natural world and the comfort of interpersonal relationships. Go ahead, it's ok to isolate and exclude me from your group gatherings." But I remember the old days...
I grew up in a house surrounded by others with similar shapes and facades, traipsed along on a narrow street lined by trees and bushes where the sun would rise over my backyard and set quietly behind the back of our neighbor's house. My name is John Jardin. John Thomas Jardin. I am 50% Irish on my Mother's side and 50% Portuguese on my Father's. And I grew up in a neighborhood surrounded by outdoor shopping malls, chain restaurants, luxury cars, and Christian churches. A safe haven carved through the once vast cow pastures in the North West corner of metro-Atlanta, known as...Marietta. When I was younger, my friends and I used to say, "Everyone who is everyone once lived in West Cobb. No matter where we all end up later in life, we will always have the sweet memories of the easy going and formulated life in Marietta." My mom was the queen of Marietta. She was the only women I know who could discipline three wildly outspoken and independent children while maintaining a conversation with her best girlfriends over the phone simultaneously. Life was simple. People were nice enough. Every weekend my friends and I would ride the elevator up to the top floor of the parking deck at the Marietta Square and watch the sunset behind the steeples lining Church St. and Kennesaw Mountain silhouetted in the distance and I'd think, "Wow!"
But now that I'm older, I know that those churches fostered close-minded outlooks in their patrons and the mountain would soon become the only piece of untouched land in a once beautifully wild landscape. And today, it's not romantic to watch the sunsets from the top of the parking deck. It's more attractive to spend the night inside, participating in questionable activities. And hanging out on top of parking decks watching the sunset is like saying, "Yeah I'm lame. I still like to enjoy the beauty and wonder of the natural world and the comfort of interpersonal relationships. Go ahead, it's ok to isolate and exclude me from your group gatherings." But I remember the old days...